


Wash, this is Junior. Junior, this is Wash

by Adventures_in_Writing



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: M/M, Tuckington - Freeform, Wash meets Junior for the first time, prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-06
Updated: 2014-10-06
Packaged: 2018-02-20 02:27:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2411615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adventures_in_Writing/pseuds/Adventures_in_Writing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Tucker…” <br/>Wash really wanted to know how Tucker knew the alien language. He’d have to wait to find out. Assuming they survived. <br/>“How do you fuck up ‘attack’ and ‘peace!?’"<br/>Washington’s voice did that thing where it increases in pitch the more he can’t believe a situation.</p>
<p>“My Sangheili isn’t the greatest, okay? Fuck, this doesn’t look good…”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wash, this is Junior. Junior, this is Wash

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt I received over on my Tumblr: Tuckington fic where Junior shows up to save the day and Wash hears about/meets Tucker's child for the first time?Please? :) 
> 
> I need to write Junior in more of my stuff.

Washington had no clue how the hell he managed to get himself into crazy situations like this. Really. Of course while he and Tucker were scouting the area they’d run into trouble. Of course. It wasn’t as if he wanted just a few minutes of peace. It must have been karma for wanting a few quiet minutes alone with Tucker. Alone time was hard to come by, so you’d take any chance you could. Scouting the area seemed to be a mutually agreed code for ‘I am going to spend some time alone with whomever I’m scouting with. Do not disturb’. Last time it was Simmons and Grif that had gone scouting, so this time Tucker and Washington had all but jumped at the chance. Sometimes he found himself wishing that he was back in the jungle in the middle of nowhere with only the Reds to worry about.  
  
Wash stood in front of the aqua soldier, his gun aimed at the cohort of aliens. Tucker was tense, his hand by his side, ready to grab the sword if he needed to. The two groups stared each other down trying to decide if it was worth attacking or not. If it came to a fight, Washington didn’t like their chances. Whilst he was an ex-freelancer trained in a whole bunch of crazy shit and Tucker was actually pretty decent with his sword, it was still nine on two. Two humans against nine heavily armed aliens who were pretty much born killing machines. Washington wagered he could at least take down two, but all nine…well, he didn’t want to get his hopes up. He tensed, about to strike. Suddenly a loud yell in something that certainly wasn’t English came from just behind him.  
  
Despite the seriousness of their situation and the fact that his eyes should have been on the enemy, Washington watched Tucker as he came to stand in front of the ex-freelancer.  
“What the—”  
  
“Oh, shit,” Tucker said. “Was that ‘attack’? Or ‘peace’? Fuck…um…”  
The aliens stared at Washington and Tucker in particular in confusion. Humans couldn’t speak their language.  
They seemingly got over their confusion quickly and were again preparing their weapons.  
  
“Tucker…” He really wanted to know how Tucker knew the alien language. He’d have to wait to find out. Assuming they survived.  
“How do you fuck up ‘attack’ and ‘peace’!?”    
Washington’s voice did that thing where it increases in pitch the more he can’t believe a situation.  
  
“My Sangheili isn’t the greatest, okay? Fuck, this doesn’t look good…”  
  
The first shots were fired from an alien in golden coloured armour. Tucker turned and tackled Wash to the ground, behind the cover of a rock. It was better than being sitting ducks.  
“What the shit, Tucker?”  
  
“What?”  
  
Washington ducked out from behind the rock and fired a couple of rounds before taking cover again.  
  
“Since when can you speak alien?”  
  
“Take that!” Tucker fired a round from his pistol and the bullet glanced off a purple armoured alien, “Fuck! Since years ago. I’m just really bad at it.”  
  
“I can see that,” Came the dry response.  
  
“Shut up.”  
  
“Cover me.”  
  
“With a fucking pistol? That’s gonna do shit. You cover me and I’ll fuck them up with a swish-swish-stab.”  
  
Washington didn’t like the idea, but at least with his rifle he had a better chance of providing covering fire. Tucker rarely carried large guns. He much preferred using his sword. Whilst it did have its merits, using a sword against projectile weapons was always risky.  
“All right. On three….One… Two… Three!”  
  
Tucker jumped over the rock and sprinted for the nearest alien in blue armour. He was quickly closing in, the element of surprise catching the alien off guard. The alien scrambled back a  few steps and brought his weapon up, took aim…  
Time suddenly seemed to slow for Tucker. He threw himself to the ground, the spray of bullets whooshing over his head as another Elite came crashing into the blue one from nowhere with a cry.  
  
Tucker knew the sound instantly. A father always knows.  
  
“Wash! Don’t shoot! He’s friendly!”  
  
The newcomer stood protectively over Tucker, shouting at the alien team. Both sides had ceased shooting; the aliens out of confusion and Washington because Tucker had said not to. He still kept the gun aimed at the enemy, his finger ready to pull the trigger at any moment. Tucker remained on the ground not wanting to cause any further undue tensions. He’d learned a lot during his time in the desert as an intermediary.  
Although he couldn’t speak Sangheili well, he could understand it. The aliens were discussing the Great Prophecy amongst themselves throwing glances every so often at Tucker and the alien protectively guarding him. He was surprised they hadn’t bowed down to him or something when he first drew the sword.  
After what seemed like an age (but was probably only a few minutes) the aliens cast a dirty look over in Tucker and Washington’s direction before heading into the bush.  
  
“Oi! We’re not dirty shizno!” Tucker yelled as he stood. He gestured rudely which resulted in the aliens calling out some more,  
  
As soon as they were out of range, Tucker threw his arms around the remaining alien’s neck with a laugh.  
“Junior!” Tucker exclaimed.  
  
“Blargh!”  
  
“How’ve you been, you little rascal? Man, you’ve grown again since I last saw you.”  
  
“Honk-honk, blargh.”  
  
“Awwww,” Tucker gave ‘Junior’ another hug, “I’ve missed you too, kiddo.”  
  
“Blargh?” Junior turned to look at Washington.  
  
“Huh?” Tucker turned to the rock that Washington had been using for cover, “Oh! I want to introduce you to someone.”  
  
Washington watched the whole exchange with wide eyes. What the hell was going on? He wasn’t aware that he’d come out of hiding until Tucker had taken hold of his hand and pulled him over to where the teal alien was standing.  
Washington looked from his wrist that Tucker was holding, to the alien, to Tucker and then back to his wrist. When next he looked up, Washington was in ‘freelancer mode’. He always did this when in a situation he would normally flip out in or if he was in the middle of combat. It was his coping mechanism for any kind of scenario that was just too outrageous or dangerous to deal with.  
“Explain to me why we’re casually standing here with an alien when a bunch of them just tried to attack us.”  
  
“Wash, this is Junior. Junior, Wash. He’s a…” Tucker hesitated. What would he call Wash? Scratch that. What would he say Washington is to him to his son? He didn’t really want to have the whole ‘this is Dad’s ‘special friend’. I hope you’ll like him,’ conversation. At least, not yet. “He’s a good friend of mine.”  
  
“Junior?” Washington asked. He felt like he knew something about this. Like he was forgetting something very important. Very, very important.  
  
“Yeah. My kid.”  
  
Washington looked over Junior. Now that Tucker had mentioned it, Wash could clearly recall reading something in the data logs about Tucker giving birth to an alien baby. Nothing could have prepared him for this meeting. How could it? How often did you get to meet an alien baby born to a human male? The answer is never.  
There were hundreds of other questions he wanted to ask, such as how did this even happen? However, Wash stuck to the most intelligent of questions:  
“Why ‘Junior’?”  
  
“…I dunno. It kinda just stuck. His Dad’s name was Honk Honk, but at the time we couldn’t speak Sangheili, so Caboose named him Crunchbite. I like the name Junior way better than anything Caboose could have come up with.”  
  
“Dad? I thought…”  
  
“Dude, how else would I be impregnated?”  
  
“Maybe…alien reproduction is like…seahorse reproduction?” Wash realised how silly that sounded after he said it out loud. “Well, it’s nice to meet you, uh, Junior.”  
  
Junior honked happily and continued chattering to Tucker in his strange alien language.  
“Yeah, you can say that again, buddy. At least you didn’t call him a dog,” Tucker said.  
  
“Who said that?” Washington supposed Junior kind of looked like a dog if you squinted really hard and pretended he wasn’t wearing plated armour.  
  
“Sister. Like, right after he was born.”  
  
“Sister?”  
  
Junior said something to Washington; a collection of honks and blarghs. Washington just looked at Junior.  
“I have absolutely no idea what you just said.”  
  
“The girl on Blue team with the yellow armour,” Tucker ‘translated’. “Stupid as a rock.”  
  
“Is she the one with raging insanity?”  
  
“Fuck yes she is.”  
  
“Then I know exactly who you’re talking about.” Washington couldn’t easily forget that encounter.  
  
Junior started chattering again.  
“Yeah, she was hot, wasn’t she?” Tucker agreed. “I haven’t seen her in ages though. Oh? You saw her after the desert…is she still hot? Awwww yeah. You can say that again. Took the honk-blargh right out of my mouth.”  
  
Wash looked to Junior and then back to Tucker whilst they conversed. Unlike Sarge’s conversations with Lopez, it seemed as though Tucker could easily understand the random words that Junior spoke. How on Earth Tucker could understand what Junior was saying when the whole language was just a collection of blargh and honk was beyond him.  
  
“Jesus Christ, he’s like you, isn’t he?” Washington said suddenly when he realised the two had spent the past few minutes talking about women and how much (or little) luck they’d had.  
  
“Dashing good looks and a hit with the ladies?”  
  
“No. A pain in my ass.”  
  
“Bow chicka honk honk!”  
  
Tucker laughed as Washington sighed.  
"Oh dear Lord…" Great. Now there were two of them.


End file.
